Doug Dillard, the pioneering country rock banjo-player, has died aged aged 75, according to reports.
Dillard had first found fame in the Dillards, a bluegrass group
formed with his brother Rodney, who made regular appearances on
successful American sitcom, The Andy Griffith Show, where they played a fictional band called 'The Darlings'.
After leaving the Dillards in 1968, Doug Dillard teamed up with former Byrd, Gene Clark, to form Dillard & Clark.
Dillard & Clark released two albums - The Fantastic Expedition of Dillard & Clark (1968) and Through The Morning, Through The Night (1969) - which are both considered country rock classics.
The musicians who played on Dillard & Clark's two albums reads like a Who's Who of country rock's A list: The Byrds' Chris Hillman and Michael Clark, The Eagles' Bernie Leadon and Flying Burrito Brothers' Sneaky Pete Kleinow.
Two tracks from Through The Morning, Through The Night - the title song itself and "Polly" - were later covered by Robert Plant and Alison Krauss on their 2007 album, Raising Sand.
In 2011, Dillard had been admitted to a Nashville hospital suffering from a collapsed lung.
According to country and bluegrass website The Boot,
a family spokesperson confirmed that Dillard was taken to a Nashville
emergency room on Wednesday night [May 16] and died shortly thereafter.Via How did I miss this sad, sad news???

Crate Diggers profiles people with extraordinary vinyl record
collections, with owners displaying and telling the stories behind their
collections. In this episode Pete Rock, the legendary DJ and producer
for rappers like Nas, Notorious B.I.G, and members of the Wu-Tang Clan,
talks about his early days with cousin Heavy D, his love of funk, and a
rare Marvin Gaye record.Via

The Rolling Stones: 50
Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, Charlie Watts and Ronnie Wood
A Free Photographic Exhibition at Somerset House
13 July – 27 August 2012 ‘This is our story of fifty fantastic years. We started out as a blues band playing the clubs and more recently we’ve filled the largest stadiums in the world with the kind of show that none of us could have imagined all those years ago’. - Mick, Keith, Charlie & Ronnie On 12 July 1962 the Rolling Stones went on stage at the Marquee Club in London’s Oxford Street. A phenomenal 50 years later, and to celebrate this milestone, Somerset House will present a free photographic exhibition documenting the last half-century and looking back at their astounding career. This exhibition will also coincide with the release of the book by the same name, published by Thames & Hudson. With privileged access to a wealth of unseen and rare material, this one-off exhibition will include over seventy prints ranging from reportage photography, live concert and studio session images, to contact sheets, negative strips and outtakes from every period of the band’s history – from performing in the smallest blues clubs to the biggest stadium tours of all time. Visitors to the exhibition will have the opportunity to purchase limited edition prints, copies of the book and other merchandise. INFORMATION Dates: 13 July – 27 August 2012 Opening Hours: 10am – 6pm Daily Address: East Wing Galleries, Somerset House, Strand, London, WC2R 1LA Admission: Free Transport: Nearest Underground Stations – Temple, Embankment, Charing Cross Further Information: www.somersethouse.org.ukVia

On 30 May, Britain's Supreme Court turned down the final appeal
of Julian Assange against his extradition to Sweden. In an unprecedented
move, the court gave the defense team of the WikiLeaks editor
permission to "re-apply" to the court in two weeks' time. On the eve of
the judgment, Sweden's leading morning newspaper, Dagens Nyheter, known
as DN, interviewed investigative journalist John Pilger, who has closely
followed the Assange case. The following is the complete text of the
interview, of which only a fraction was published in Sweden.DN: Julian Assange has been fighting extradition to Sweden at
a number of British courts. Why do you think it is important he wins?JP: Because the attempt to extradite Assange is
unjust and political. I have read almost every scrap of evidence in this
case and it's clear, in terms of natural justice, that no crime was
committed. The case would not have got this far had it not been for the
intervention of Claes Borgstrom, a politician who saw an opportunity
when the Stockholm prosecutor threw out almost all the police
allegations. Borgstrom was then in the middle of an election campaign.
When asked why the case was proceeding when both women had said that the
sex had been consensual with Assange, he replied, "Ah, but they're not
lawyers." If the Supreme Court in London rejects Assange's appeal, the
one hope is the independence of the Swedish courts. However, as the
London Independent has revealed, Sweden and the US have already begun
talks on Assange's "temporary surrender" to the US - where he faces
concocted charges and the prospect of unlimited solitary confinement.
And for what? For telling epic truths. Every Swede who cares about
justice and the reputation of his or her society should care deeply
about this.DN: You have said that Julian Assange's human rights have been breached. In what way?JP: One of the most fundamental human rights - that
of the presumption of innocence - has been breached over and over again
in Assange's case. Convicted of no crime, he has been the object of
character assassination -perfidious and inhuman - and highly political
smear, of which the evidence is voluminous. This is what Britain's most
distinguished and experienced human rights lawyer, Gareth Peirce, has
written: "Given the extent of the public discussion, frequently on the
basis of entirely false assumptions ... it is very hard to preserve for
[Assange] any presumption of innocence. He has now hanging over him not
one but two Damocles swords of potential extradition to two different
jurisdictions in turn for two different alleged crimes, neither of which
are crimes in his own country. [And] his personal safety has become at
risk in circumstances that are highly politically charged."DN: You, as well as Julian Assange, don't seem to have confidence in the Swedish judicial system. Why not?JP: It's difficult to have confidence in a
prosecutorial system that is so contradictory and flagrantly uses the
media to achieve its aims. Whether or not the Supreme Court in London
find for or against Assange, the fact that this case has reached the
highest court in this country is itself a condemnation of the competence
and motivation of those so eager to incarcerate him, having already had
plenty of opportunity to question him properly. What a waste all this
is.DN: If Julian Assange is innocent, as he says, would it not have been better if he had gone to Stockholm to sort things out?JP: Assange tried to "sort things out," as you put
it. Right from the beginning, he offered repeatedly to be questioned -
first in Sweden, then in the UK. He sought and received permission to
leave Sweden - which makes a nonsense of the claim that he has avoided
questioning. The prosecutor who has since pursued him has refused to
give any explanation about why she will not use standard procedures,
which Sweden and the UK have signed up to.DN: IF the Supreme Court decides that Julian Assange can be extradited to Sweden, what consequences/risks do you see for him?JP: First, I would draw on my regard for ordinary
Swedes' sense of fairness and justice. Alas, overshadowing that is a
Swedish elite that has forged sinister and obsequious links with
Washington. These powerful people have every reason to see Julian
Assange as a threat. For one thing, their vaunted reputation for
neutrality has been repeatedly exposed as a sham in US cables leaked by
WikiLeaks. One cable revealed that "the extent of [Sweden's military and
intelligence] co-operation [with NATO] is not widely known" and unless
kept secret "would open up the government to domestic criticism."
Another was entitled "WikiLeaks puts neutrality in the dustbin of
history." Don't the Swedish public have a right to know what the
powerful say in private in their name?Dagens Nyheter @'truthout'

President Obama presented Bob Dylan with the
Medal of Freedom at the White House today, saying "There is not a bigger
giant in the history of American music." It is the United States'
highest civilian honor and is awarded for meritorious contributions to
the national interest of the United States, to world peace, or to other
significant endeavors. Congratulations, Bob! Photo by Charles Dharapak/APVia

&lt;p&gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;nbsp;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;nbsp;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;nbsp;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;nbsp;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;nbsp;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;nbsp;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;nbsp;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;nbsp;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;nbsp;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;nbsp;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;nbsp;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;nbsp;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;nbsp;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;nbsp;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;nbsp;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;nbsp;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;nbsp;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;nbsp;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;nbsp;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;nbsp;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;nbsp; &amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&lt;/p&gt;written by songwriting team Burt Bacharach and Hal David. First recorded as a demo by Dionne Warwick in 1963, "(There's) Always Something There to Remind Me" first charted for Lou Johnson whose version reached #49 on the Billboard Hot 100 in the summer of 1964.
British impresario Eve Taylor heard Johnson's version while on a US visit scouting for material for her recent discovery Sandie Shaw
who resultantly covered the song for the UK market in September 1964
that same month premiering the song with a performance on the Ready Steady Go!
pop music TV program. Shaw's "(There's) Always Something There to
Remind Me" was rush released to reach #1 on the UK charts in three
weeks, spending three weeks at #1 in November 1964 and that same month
debuting on the Billboard Hot 100; however despite reaching the Top Ten in some markets including Detroit and Miami Shaw's version of "...Always Something There to Remind Me" failed to
best the national showing of the Lou Johnson original as the Hot 100
peak of Shaw's version was #52.
(wiki)

The major reason that Melbourne's bike scheme has never really taken off is due to our stupid and totally unnecessary compulsory helmet law. As a cyclist for about the last 45 years I can assure you that a helmet would not have helped in the slightest when my knees, elbows etc got grazed the few times I have come off...

Alan Warner at the Scottish Railway Museum, Boness. Photograph: Murdo MacLeod for the Guardian
One day in 1981, 16-year-old Alan Warner
was in Oban with a friend when they noticed something in an art shop
window. "My friend said: 'There's that new book by that guy in Glasgow.'
It had beautiful rococo art work on the cover." The book was a hardback
copy of Aladsair Gray's novel Lanark,
just published by Edinburgh-based Canongate press. "I remember saying
to my friend: 'You mean there's someone in Scotland writing books
today?' I genuinely thought writing in Scotland had died out like the
gas lamp."
Warner concedes that this deluded impression was in
part prompted by living in a Highland tourist town and seeing Walter
Scotts and Robert Louis Stevensons bound and forbidding in souvenir
shops – "an antiquarian feel that had been projected on to Scottish
literature." But it wasn't much better in Glasgow. He recalls going to a
three-storey bookshop there the same year. "The Scottish literature
section consisted of Muriel Spark, John Buchan, Stevenson and Scott.
Apart from Spark you'd have nothing published since the 60s. Nothing.
Everything was over with."
Worse, literature had been colonised by
the posh English. "Every Penguin classic you looked at was 'He studied
at Oxford or Cambridge.' That's why I was fascinated by literature –
because it was otherworldly. It wasn't something made in and of my
community."
It's inconceivable that any sentient Scot could feel
today as Warner did in 1981. Scottish literature has flourished so much
in the three decades since that disbelieving Oban moment, thanks to
Gray, James Kelman, Irvine Welsh, AL Kennedy, Andrew O'Hagan, Iain
Banks, Ali Smith, Kathleen Jamie, and others too numerous to mention,
that the firm of Scott, Stevenson and Spark no longer has a stranglehold
on the national literary imagination.
The most notable omission
from that list of Scottish literary revivifiers is Warner himself, who,
as the author of seven novels from his bravura 1995 debut Morvern Callarto the sophisticated ambition of his latest The Deadman's Pedal,
published this month, has been feted as one of Scotland's finest
writers. The critics hail you, I tell him, as the true artist of the
Scottish novel. "Oh I cringe when you say that. It's just I can't walk
around – I should but I can't – thinking 'I am an artist.'" Warner's a
big man, but shrinks over his Red Bull and ice as he sits at a table
framed by the window of the bar of Edinburgh's Rutland Hotel.
Behind
him it rains unstoppingly for the next three and a half hours,
reinforcing the melancholy Caledonian mood Warner established when we
met, as he pointed out closed-down shops on Princes Street. Scotland's
premier boulevard is hushed: there's no traffic thanks to the building
of a tramway and few pedestrians because of the rain. There is, though, a
tank parked on the street, to woo army recruits. Outside, Edinburgh's
unpeopled and militarised; inside, Warner eventually moves from Red Bull
to Guinness.
"I've always had to pinch myself," he says,
de-hunching himself finally. "Even today I still feel like a reader who
happens to write. I know it's not really the truth, I know it's taken
over my life, the writing, become a compulsion. And more than a
compulsion – a curse."
Long before he became an accursed artist,
Warner was bookless in Argyll. "My family didn't really read books. Nor
did I." That changed when, aged, 15, he went into John Menzies and came
out with three novels – Camus's The Outsider, Gide's The Immoralist and Charles Webb's The Graduate– partly because the covers suggested the books would be about sex.
"I thought books were James Bond and Agatha Christie and then suddenly I read The Immoralist and later Alan Paton's Cry, the Beloved Country
and half way through them you're devastated by what's going on. It
completely changed my world. I never knew literature could move you,
change the way you looked at the world."
Seduced by literature, he
became a Highland autodidact, trawling in almost continuous literary
rapture through Penguin classics from a charity shop. "Twenty five of
them in a row – no sensible connection between them. Dostoevsky, Gide, The Lives of the Saints,
Henry James. It was a completely pure experience for about a year of my
life. Those books twisted me around something remarkable."
Only
later did Scottish writing catch up with Warner's reading. The book that
revolutionised his sensibility and induced him to write fiction was James Kelman's 1984 novel The Busconductor Hines.
"I remember that the effect it had on me – apart from great joy – was
'That's all you have to do. You sort of, eh, have a job and you write
about the job and the guy has thoughts.' So out came the pen." He still
starts his books in longhand...

'Those things are not tame, as if you could tame a big reptile," Rollins says about wrestling an alligator. "There’s no familiarity. They might not scare you, but it is a very big animal. I had never done anything like that before. But basically I just tried to stay very present and very aware of what I was doing. I have not seen the footage but I’m sure my face was a study of concentration. I do remember going ‘okay, get through this.’ Before I jumped on the alligator, the owner was like, ‘You know he’s more of a runner than a biter.’ Which apparently is supposed to buck you up.'MORE